Showing posts with label Parables of Jesus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parables of Jesus. Show all posts

Monday, July 30, 2018

Homily for Monday, 30 July 2018– Ferial

Monday of the 17th Week in Ordinary Time


Optional Memorial of St. Peter Chrysologus

Readings of the day: Jeremiah 13:1-11; Responsorial Canticle: Deuteronomy 32:18-19, 20, 21; Matthew 13:31-35

This homily was given at the Kateri House Women's Residence Chapel at St. Joseph's College, Edmonton, AB, Canada.

Has anybody here ever wondered why, occasionally, as in passages like the one we hear today from Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus chooses on purpose to “speak in parables”? When Jesus teaches in this way, would it not seem that anybody who does not understand what he is teaching would have little to no chance of progressing in understanding of his teaching? “What has been hidden from the foundation of the world” would therefore remain hidden. And what is Jesus trying to keep hidden and from whom? Is it not God’s way to reveal to us at least the truths we need for our salvation?

Let me answer “yes” to this last question: Neither Jesus nor St. Matthew deny that God reveals to us all the truths we need to be saved. But, still, verses like the one at the end of our Gospel reading today can be troublesome. We might think that Jesus might simply have become exasperated by the obtuseness of the people following him, and so we might allow him space for some godly snark (Or was the occasional snark part of his human nature? This is hard to say).

Sayings of Jesus like this make me imagine him, completely lifted from his historical or other context, as at least capable of a tone more like Jack Nicholson’s Colonel Jessup in “A Few Good Men,” with the people following Jesus taking the place of Tom Cruise’s Lieutenant Kaffee: “I want the truth”! “You can’t handle the truth”!

At worst, sayings of Jesus about elements of God’s revelation being “hidden from the foundation of the world” have become fodder since the earliest days of our Christian faith for Gnostic teachings, consistently condemned as heresies by the Church, that some truths that are necessary for our salvation lie outside what God has revealed to us through Scripture and the Church’s teaching tradition.

God has hidden nothing of essential truths we need to be saved. Yet we are free to reject truths proclaimed either in Scripture or in the tradition of the Church. We are free, because God has given us free will, to make ourselves unable to “handle the truth.”

In Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man, Marshall McLuhan coined the phrase: “The medium is the message.” At the time, he was referring to how various media, like radio or television, and now increasingly social media, affect how individuals and societies receive and interpret a message, more than the content of the message itself. But could we not extend McLuhan’s point to say that, in some way, when we receive a message, if not a divinely-revealed truth, we become part of “the medium” that influences how we interpret the message?

This, to me, resonates better with Jesus’ time, place, and culture behind our Gospels and especially behind some of Jesus’ more troublesome sayings, like those about “hidden” essential truths. Divinely-reveled truths remain “hidden” to us insofar as our “medium” is not receptive to those truths. We know the frequent Biblical metaphor of hardness of heart. This metaphor is all about medium, when the people become “hard of heart,” in other words, unreceptive to truths God wants to reveal to them. This lack of receptivity is not God’s fault, but ours. Jesus, far from being needlessly sharp with the people, teaches in parables to soften our hardness of heart, to make us a better medium for his saving message.

Friday, August 4, 2017

Homily for Sunday, 30 July 2017

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: 1 Kings 3:5, 7-12; Psalm 119:57, 72, 76-77, 127-128, 129-130; Romans 8:28-30; Matthew 13:44-52

This homily was given at St. Clare and St. Alphonsus Churches, Edmonton, AB, Canada

If we were able to ask God for anything; if God were to say to us what he once said to Solomon and that we hear today, “Ask what I should give you,” for what would we ask God?

I am teaching this summer here in Edmonton at St. Joseph’s College of the University of Alberta. I know some teachers (and I have said this myself) who refer to the kind of question I have just asked as the famous, or perhaps infamous, “teacher’s leading question.” We know already, from our first reading today, that what Solomon asks for, wisdom to govern the people of Israel, pleases God. Solomon could have asked God for anything: “Long life or riches, or for the life of [his] enemies,” and God would gladly have granted it to him. Instead Solomon asks this of God: “Give your servant… an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil; for who can govern this, your great people”? To return to the classroom analogy, Solomon is like the eager and brilliant student, always the first to raise a hand, who gives us the best answer— although here there is no wrong answer to God’s initial invitation— “Ask what I should give you.”

To God’s invitation, there is a good answer, a better answer, and a best answer, and Solomon gives the best answer: “Give your servant… an understanding mind… able to discern between good and evil.” All we might need to do now, if God were to ask us to ask him for anything we wished, is to answer, “What Solomon said.” This is what makes God’s invitation to Solomon and to us to ask for anything a kind of “leading question”; the kind of question a teacher would ask students in a classroom, the correct answers to which the teacher already has in mind.

Solomon’s answer; his petition to God to give him wisdom and the ability “to discern between good and evil” is the best answer. Would it not be wonderful if more, if not all, the people who govern us; who hold public office or are otherwise in positions of power were to make Solomon’s prayerful wish more profoundly their own? This, though, does not mean that how we would answer God if God offered to give us anything we wished would not be a good answer or at least a good try. God invites us here, as he once invited Solomon, to be honest with ourselves, not only to give the answer we think would most please God (although pleasing God is important), but to answer from our hearts: What would we most desire if God were to invite us to ask for anything we desired?

What is wrong with asking, as perhaps God might have expected Solomon to ask, “for… long life or riches”? Nothing is wrong, essentially, with asking for these things. Might we also ask for peace in our world, our communities, and our families? Might we ask for God’s mercy toward the sick, the suffering, and those who have died? Might we ask for God to guide and protect our Church? If we were to ask, since it was apparently one of the options possible for Solomon, for the lives “of [our] enemies,” we might need to talk. We and God might need to talk…

Humour aside, these are only a few of the items on our “wish list” we might have if God were to offer to give us anything we desired. And every time we are at Mass, we offer God our wish list. We call this wish list, our list of petitions to God, the Prayer of the Faithful. “Lord, hear our prayer”… There is nothing wrong with this; in fact, to pray this way is to be encouraged and an important part of our Mass.

In our Prayer of the Faithful, in the dialogue we hear today between God and Solomon, in God’s pleasure at Solomon’s wish for wisdom and discernment, and in our daily prayers and petitions, we have a sense of what St. Paul says in his letter to the Romans: “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God.” In other words, we cannot go wrong if all our deepest desires stem from love for God and love for one another. And so go ahead; raise your hand up in class when the teacher asks one of those leading questions. Answer God’s invitation: Pray without worrying about whether you are asking for the right things. Be bold, yet be honest: What do you desire most? If you love God and neighbour, or at least are trying your best to love, there is no unworthy desire. There is no wrong answer. There is no bad prayer. After all, God did say to Solomon, “Ask what I should give you.” Here, God says the same to us.

Some of us may know the heartwarming childhood story one of the Church’s great saints, Thérèse of Lisieux, tells about herself in her autobiography, her Story of a Soul. One day, her sister Léonie (who eventually entered the Sisters of the Visitation; all the other sisters of the family became Carmelites in Lisieux) was giving away her toys that she had outgrown and no longer played with. Each of the sisters chose their favourite item from the giveaway basket. And then along came Thérèse, who announced “I want everything,” and then, as she says in The Story of a Soul, made off “without further ado” with the entire basket!

“Ask what I should give you”… “I want everything”! Later, St. Thérèse would refine her desire for “everything” into a desire to be everything for the love of God and of God’s people; of us. This once impish, sassy child would come to understand that “love included all vocations, that love was everything, that it embraced all times and all places; in a word, that [love] is eternal,” and that “in the heart of the Church,” she was to be “love.”

“All things work together for good for those who love God.” In Thérèse of Lisieux and King Solomon we have two prime examples of people who loved and desired God above all else. In loving and desiring God, they were able to proclaim boldly and honestly, “I desire wisdom and discernment”; “I want everything… In the heart of the Church, I shall be love.” In the same way God invites us to desire all that stems from love of God and shows itself in works of love toward one another. And God promises us that, for those who love; for those who desire love above all, “all things work together for good.”

Those who desire love will enter “the Kingdom of Heaven” of which Jesus speaks in the parables of our Gospel reading today. Those who desire love will find “the treasure hidden in a field” or the “pearl of great value” and will give anything up for it. Those who desire love will be found among the righteous; “the good” who will be saved, because “the Kingdom of Heaven” is where our desire for love will meet Love itself, God, who has created us to love as he loves us.

Heaven is the place for the bold and the honest; those unafraid to put up our hands first; unafraid of not having worked out the best answer yet when God asks us that leading question: What do you most desire? “Ask what I should give you.”

Lord God, we desire wisdom. We desire the grace to discern good from evil and to do good. We desire the entire basket of toys; “everything” that works “together for [our] good.” We desire the “treasure hidden in a field”; the “pearl of great value.” We desire to be saved. We desire eternal life with you in “the Kingdom of Heaven.” We desire love, O God. Show us to love. Show us, “in the heart of the Church,” in the heart of our world that thirsts for your love, to be love, for it is in being love that, embracing “all times and all places,” we have and are everything we most deeply desire.

Homily for Thursday, 27 July 2017– Ferial

Thursday of the 16th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Exodus 19:1-2, 9-11, 16-20b; Responsorial Canticle: Daniel 3:52, 53, 54, 55, 56; Matthew 13:10-17

Did any of us hear in our readings today the contrast between how God makes God’s self known in Exodus versus in Matthew’s Gospel?

How God makes God’s self known to us; reveals himself to us: We call this divine revelation. In Exodus today we hear the immediate lead-in to the Ten Commandments, which we will hear tomorrow. God is most concerned that the people being led by Moses in the desert will hear him when he speaks with Moses; when he gives Moses the Ten Commandments. God says to Moses, “I am going to come to you in a dense cloud, in order that the people may hear when I speak with you and so trust you ever after.” The people need to be able to trust Moses and so to trust God. This is the primary way in which God reveals himself in the part of Exodus we hear today.

In Matthew’s Gospel, do we not get the sense of a more distant and even irritable God through Jesus’ explanation of why he speaks “to the people in parables”? Jesus offers us a strange and even somewhat troubling explanation for why he teaches in parables: “[So] that ‘seeing they do not perceive, and hearing they do not listen, nor do they understand.” Does Jesus speak in this way because he really does not want the people hearing him to “perceive… listen,” and understand what he is saying? This seems to me to be unlikely. Perhaps Jesus speaks this way because the people have had a chance to “perceive… listen” and understand him, to believe that he is the Messiah, and they have missed their chance.

But how long do we have before we have missed our chance to “perceive… listen… understand” believe what has been divinely revealed to us, that Jesus is the Messiah, and to back up our belief in Jesus as the Messiah by the way we live? As one bishop I know is fond of saying tongue-in-cheek, we have “between now and five minutes after death” to believe in Jesus as the Messiah and to act by what we believe. In other words, this process that we might call conversion takes a lifetime. But how long do we have?

Nobody fully knows the answer to this question. The Ten Commandments, the introduction to which we hear today in Exodus, were one event of God’s self-revelation to the people of Israel during a forty-year journey through the desert to their homeland. The journey of conversion, of grappling with divine revelation, would take the people of Israel more than one generation. Yet they did enter their homeland, although Moses did not.

We cannot know how much time we have left to believe in what God has revealed to us; what is essential to our faith; in Jesus Christ as the Messiah, and to live by it. Perhaps, then, Jesus is inviting us; pleading with us not to wait. Conversion is not a process we might begin in the future, but a process to live out in the present. And only if conversion for us is a present more than a future reality will we also experience the promise of Jesus to his disciples in today’s Gospel in the present: “Blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear.”